The court hall of Altherion—the heart of the Central Continent—was vast enough to swallow an army.
Silver pillars lined both sides, their spiraled designs carved with the emblems of every known nation. Frosted light poured through stained glass above, painting the marble floor in shifting hues of blue and white. The air smelled faintly of incense and steel, like a temple built by warriors.
Here, the "Winter Pact" would be signed.
For the first time in decades, representatives of the North and South had gathered under the same roof without their swords drawn. The Central Empire's council sat above them all, elevated on a dais of stone, serving as the supposed "neutral mediators."
Noah sat among the northern delegation, his black uniform pressed and polished, his silver cane leaning beside him. Around him were nobles and generals—faces that had argued, schemed, and bled for years in the frozen wars.
